For as long as I’ve been on this earth it’s always been instilled in me to work hard, be respectful, don’t do drugs, the same song and dance I’m sure every kid gets from their parents.

Until the year I lost both of mine. I watched my mom, my rock, my world, slowly fade away from stage 4 cancer. Sitting beside her bed holding her hand, kissing her forehead for what I knew would be the last time. I let her go. I then took a year off of work and devoted that time to taking care of my father who was suffering from dementia. It was very early onset, but losing my mom only intensified it. Holding him while he broke daily when he’d ask where she was and reminding me of the time and how she should be home from work by now. And having to tell him practically daily she wasn’t coming home. The man who taught me how to hunt, fish, was there for my Army graduations, who raised me and took care of me, and here I was taking care of him. But, we went fishing, we hung out, I never got to tell him that the last year of his life was the best year of mine.

I suffer from depression from my divorce, but damn do I hide it well. Almost 9 years with someone who was narcissistic, borderline alcoholic, and gold digging to the core. Different upbringings, her family had money, mine worked for everything, for the life of me I don’t know how it lasted as long as it did. She was an angry drunk, verbally, mentally, and physically. One night she tried wrecking my truck while I drove us home from a night out with friends. Two days before Christmas. I went to family Christmas with claw marks on my face, a black eye, and alone, she volunteered to sit that one out. 5 months later we divorced. I count my blessings, I wouldn’t be where I am today had I stayed with her. I hear she’s not doing well, but that’s not my circus or my monkeys.

I move on to where I am now. After my siblings stole money, property, and anything else they could get their hands on after my mom died and they took advantage of my mentally ill father. Leaving me to pick up the pieces. They didn’t bother to show up to his funeral. I’ve since disowned them.

I suffered from bouts of depression, call it economically based. I started a business to help people. To help them avoid the burden of cost from dealerships and dishonest repair shops when it came to fixing their vehicles. But how is it when a dealership quotes them $2400 for an ac job, because it’s 115 degrees outside, I offer to do it for $300 and they still want to argue price. Same quality work, a lot less price. It’s the economy that makes working class want to crawl in a hole and die. I do alright when the work follows through. But someone’s always willing to do it cheaper, you get what you pay for at that point. Circling back to crawl in a hole and die. I’m there now.

I’ve stopped calling friends I used to once go out with all the time, they haven’t noticed because they haven’t called me. I stopped paying for friends bills when they feed me a sob story about being broke, and when I help out, 3 hours later they’re posting pics of seafood dinners or they’re out at the bar, enjoy it, it’ll be the last meal I pay for.

I have done for people my entire life. Literally. From an early age I worked with my parents after school on other peoples cars. Graduated high school and left for the service. To now, running a failing business, with my parents last name on the door, I can’t help but feel like I’ve failed them. And with the silence I’ve received from so called friends, the disowning of my siblings, the fact that I have no family, I’m writing this in clarity wondering, will anyone even miss me if I’m gone, they don’t even miss me while I’m here.